


I Couldn't Do Any of It (Not Without You)

by lavenderlotion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Peter Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Codependency, Come Eating, Come Marking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Human Alpha Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Nogitsune, Praise Kink, Scott McCall is a Bad Alpha, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “We need to finish up,” Peter said against his skin and Stiles shivered, not pausing as he continued to rub circles into Peter’s back.“I know,” he said, letting himself have another moment of holding Peter close before he stepped back. “C’mon, the sooner we get this done the sooner we can go home.”Peter nodded, stooping down to pick up the bag. “Which would you rather?”Stiles hummed, considering. “I’ll dig the grave.”





	I Couldn't Do Any of It (Not Without You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegirlwhoknits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/gifts).



> Happy Birthday! You mean so much to me, and you have become such an important person in my life. I am thankful every day that we are friends, and I am so, so happy that I met you. Love ya!

Peter was in a mood. In fact, Peter had been  _ in _ a mood for several days. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to blame him, not really, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t starting to grate on his nerves. You could say what you wanted about him, but Peter Hale knew how to sulk. He was moody, quick to annoyance, short-tempered and snappish. Dealing with Peter when he was like this left Stiles exhausted, no matter how much he loved him. 

And he did love him. No matter how much work it was to deal with Peter when he spiralled into his own head, when he lost himself in his self-loathing, Stiles wouldn’t give up what they had. It had been hard fought, a slow, careful courtship following the Nogitsune’s possession. 

If it wasn’t for Peter, Stiles wasn’t sure he would still be here. The knowledge of what the demon had done in Stiles’ body had been enough to drown him in his own grief. He had struggled to stay afloat in the months after, plagued by a millennium worth of memories that he never wanted. If it wasn’t for Peter sticking by his side and being everything Stiles had needed him to be, Stiles wouldn’t be where he would be now. He owed Peter so much, owed him  _ everything _ , and he loved him helplessly for it. 

Which, was why Stiles had been doing his best to take Peter’s attitude in stride. After all, Stiles knew, of somewhat, what put Peter into such bad moods. As a Beta, Peter had to submit himself to an Alpha, lest he risk himself becoming an Omega. Part of the conditions to their courtship had been Peter baring his throat to Scott, and Peter had reluctantly done so, if only for Stiles. 

Scott had been...less enthusiastic than Peter, a feat Stiles hadn’t thought possible. He still held a grudge, however silly, from when Peter had bitten him. Nevermind that Scott loved being a werewolf, loved the power and all the perks that came with it. Despite it all, he still hated Peter for what he had done, and he had taken his relationship with Stiles as some sort of attack against himself. It was ridiculous, and it had shone light on the tension and the distance that had been building between Scott and Stiles since they were introduced to the supernatural. 

Still, Stiles was firm in his belief that strenuous pack bonds were far better than a feral Peter. 

Neither Stiles nor Peter could say that Scott was anything close to a good Alpha. He had no idea how to maintain his pack bonds and even less of an idea when it came to ‘leading’ his pack. He was neglectful and ignorant to his Beta’s needs, even if his pack only consisted of the three remaining Hale’s, Isaac and the former alpha twins. While the others were doing fine—getting the comfort and intimacy they so needed to keep their wolves sane from one another—Peter didn’t have a close enough relationship to any of them to get his own fix. 

That on its own would have been enough to drive Peter’s wolf half mad, but Scott’s irrational dislike of him only amplified those feelings. Intentional or not, Scott’s feelings towards Peter grated along their pack bonds, forced distance between Peter and the others. The Alpha’s feelings bled through to Peter’s wolf, and the Beta in him mourned his Alpha’s disapproval. It hurt Peter’s wolf to know that it’s Alpha didn’t want him, didn’t  _ approve _ of him. 

So, Stiles knew that it was his weakened pack bonds that had Peter in such a mood. Usually, Peter and Stiles were tactile enough with one another to curb most of Peter’s irritation. He didn’t need time with his pack because he had time with Stiles. It worked for them, both touch-starved, if for different reasons. 

It wasn’t the need for affection that Stiles minded. Stiles was glad to shower Peter in love, and it was something he would gladly do for as long as the wolf let him (Stiles didn’t care one bit if he was too young to be making such declarations. Peter Hale was  _ it _ for him). What Stiles minded, however, was how Peter went about getting it. 

For some reason, Peter found it degrading to ask for what he needed. Or, more accurately, Peter founds it degrading to be in need, of any kind, and did his best to hide away when he wasn’t at his best. Because of that, Peter would retreat into himself, push Stiles away when all he wanted to do was help. It made it impossible for Stiles to make any of it better, and because of that, he was stuck dealing with a moody, irritable Peter, when all they both wanted was to curl up together. 

But Stiles had been busy, desperately trying to keep with school work while pouring over research, and he hadn’t been able to focus on Peter enough to drag him out of his bad mood. A new threat had entered their territory, a pack of were _ hyenas _ , and while its leader had proclaimed nothing but innocent intentions to Scott, Stiles wasn’t so quick to trust. 

Peter’s own suspicion only spurred Stiles on, and the research he’d found regarding werehyenas had proved them right to be worried. All the information that he’d been able to gather seemed to agree on what, at base level, werehyenas were. 

They were malicious, bloodthirsty creatures. They were scavengers, picking through others scraps, never on the front lines of a fight. They fought dirty, and while they were weak, they were fast. Nothing that Stiles found made him feel comfortable in Scott’s decision to allow them free passage through the town. He knew it would only end in disaster, and Stiles was too busy planning for the worst to properly attend to Peter’s needs. 

Scott’s incompetence as an Alpha didn’t only consist of neglecting his Betas. The True Alpha was entirely too trusting, naive in the faith he put in strangers. The hyenas weren’t the first supernatural creatures he let into his territory without anything more than their own assurance as to their intentions. It was dangerous, Scott’s easy nature. He trusted everyone he met at face value and was determinedly convinced that everyone had good in them. 

Stiles had seen too much to hold the same mindset. He intimately knew the evils the world possessed. Scott called him pessimistic, distrusting. Stiles thought himself a realist more than anything else. The Nogitsune had opened Stiles’ eyes to the inherent evil that some creatures possessed, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think there was good in everyone. 

That was the main reason why he and Peter had taken over the protection of Beacon Hills. It was an easy decision for them to make. Peter got to curb his blood-lust and Stiles got to protect his pack—Peter. His father, Jordan Parrish by extension. Lydia and Chris Argent—and if that meant secretly...disposing of unruly supernatural creatures, well, he would do what he had to. 

He had a thousand years worth of knowledge at his disposal, and although he never asked for it, never  _ wanted _ it, he could at least use it to keep his loved ones safe. 

They knew Scott would never agree to the things they did, so they made sure no one would ever find out it was them. More often than not, Scott and his pack thought nothing of the supernatural creatures they let into their land disappearing. Scott didn’t keep tabs on them, so they just assumed they had moved on. 

No one knew about the others. The ones that didn’t meet with Scott, the ones that showed up with blood on their hands and a trail of bodies following after them. Those ones, Peter and Stiles put into the ground before anyone found out they had even crossed into the preserve.

The lack of surveillance made their jobs easier, though it endlessly frustrated Stiles that Scott so thoughtlessly let creatures he didn’t know stay in their territory. It made it simple for Stiles to slip into the preserve, Peter following after him and carrying their supply bag. It had taken them a while to fill it up, but now it held nearly everything that they needed to get a job done. 

Walking through the preserve had never been one of Stiles’ favourite activities, not with how clumsy he had always been, but the Nogitsune had left a calmness to Stiles’ body that had never been there before. He didn’t trip over his own feet nearly as much as he once had, even during the dead of night. It helped that they walked slowly, careful to make as little noise as possible. Having Peter at his back helped to reassure him—he knew the wolf wouldn’t let him fall, and would be there to catch him if he did.

Peter had scouted the preserve a few days ago to figure out where in the woods they hyenas were staying. It was far out in their territory, right up against the edge of their land. Stiles wasn’t sure how supernatural creatures could sense things like that, and while Peter had tried to explain it to him more than once, Stiles had never been able to wrap his head around how they all just  _ knew _ .

They were quiet in their approach, and Peter had found them a hill that looked over the clearing where the group had set up camp. Peter swung the bag off his shoulder, but he placed it on the grass silently. Neither said a word—they didn’t need to, not after doing this as long as they had—and Stiles got to work. This job was on him.

Stiles knew his ease with handling firearms didn’t come from his own experience, but he had no problem assembling the gun. Peter seemed to have connections to everyone, and acquiring military-grade weapons was done with the same convenience as making a simple online order. The rifle was semi-automatic, better for when he had to take out more than one person, and the scope he screwed in had cost them a pretty penny. 

Peter was pacing behind him, his entire body tensely locked up as he watched Stiles work. His eyes were flashing, glowing blue in the darkness of the forest and Stiles had to fight down the urge to sigh. He knew it wasn’t Peter’s fault that his wolf was on edge, and he tried to remind himself that when he got ready. The grass was cool under him when he lied down, and he settled the rifle with care.

“You need to calm down,” Stiles snapped, his voice hardly a whisper. The forest was silent around them, and even Stiles, in all of his humanity, could taste the age-old magic in the air. 

Stiles ignored Peter’s growl, and instead focused on the task at hand. The pack of werehyenas were gathered around a fire, cackling and barking with one another as they tore up the body of a hiker. The sight of the days old, mangled corpse no longer twisted Stiles’ stomach, not with the imagery the Nogitsune had left, but it still left an ache in his heart. He had no idea who that man was, but he took a quiet moment to wish him peace. 

He took a deep breath, using the moment to settle his mind. It didn’t take him long to line up his first shot—a member of the pack that was sitting away from the others—and the only noise made was a  _ whoosh  _ of air when the gun was fired. The bullets shell fell softly onto a folded towel, making no more noise than firing the gun had. Stiles didn’t take a moment to breathe, and rather found another target away from the main group, placing a bullet between its eyes.

He quickly lined up his next shot, firing on his exhale. This one the group saw, and they exploded into a flurry of movement and yips. The bullets Stiles used were of a silver shell, filled with a fancy mix of wolfsbane, mistletoe and various other herbs, poisonous not just to wolves but most other shifters as well. He didn’t need a deadly hit to put the creatures down, and he didn’t waste time trying for one.

Firing the gun as quickly as he could, it only took a few moments for Stiles to have put the entire pack down. Once he fired the last bullet, he took a steadying breath. He didn’t like to kill, and if there were any other way he would gladly take them out. But they hyenas had already killed once, only a week into their stay, and Stiles didn't want to think about what could have happened if they hadn’t been put down.

He disassembled the gun before he stood up, placing it into its own carrying bag before tossing it into the duffle. He stood to find Peter watching him, his eyes electric blue and his face far hairier than it should be. Stiles took one more steadying breath as he looked at his boyfriend, not quite able to push down the guilt that came with looking at Peter half shifted.

“C’mere,” Stiles said softly, holding out his hand. Peter took it, though Stiles had to tug him to get Peter to move closer. “It’s over. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. After this, I’m all yours, alright?”

Peter didn’t say anything, but he pushed his face into Stiles’ neck. His added sideburns tickled at Stiles’ skin, but he didn’t protest, and rather he wrapped his own arms around Peter’s waist to hold them closer together. Stiles felt his own tension bleed out as exhaustion settled over him. He hadn’t slept enough in days. Peter being in a mood often led to Peter not staying over, and Stiles knew neither of them could sleep on their own anymore. 

“We need to finish up,” Peter said against his skin and Stiles shivered, not pausing as he continued to rub circles into Peter’s back.

“I know,” he said, letting himself have another moment of holding Peter close before he stepped back. “C’mon, the sooner we get this done the sooner we can go home.”

Peter nodded, stooping down to pick up the bag. “Which would you rather?”

Stiles hummed, considering. “I’ll dig the grave.”

——

Stiles woke slowly, a smile already on his face when he was able to pull Peter tighter against his chest. They hadn’t spent the night together in a few days, and Stiles knew it wore on both of them. He couldn't bring himself to question how co-dependent that they had become, not when Peter made him so happy

They had been exhausted when they got back to Peter’s apartment. Digging a grave big enough for seven full-grown adults had taken a lot out of him, and even with Peter coming to help after he piled their bodies together, it had been a lot of work. Stiles had almost fallen asleep as he waited for the bodies to burn enough that he felt comfortable covering them up. That had been more work than Stiles’ body had wanted to do, though he pushed through it without help.

Peter had been scrolling through his phone when Stiles finally got the jeep. Peter hadn’t look any more relaxed than he had the entire night, though Stiles didn’t blame him. He had known that neither of them would be able to totally relax until they were back at Peter’s apartment. They had showered quickly before dropping into bed, and Stiles had hardly spared enough thought to pull Peter close before he was drifting to sleep.

Now, he was very awake and very well rested. He didn’t open his eyes yet, and instead he nuzzled his nose against the back of Peter’s neck, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He was comfortable and warm, and having Peter in his arms settled something deep in Stiles’ chest. It had been too long since they were together like this, and Stiles smiled when he felt Peter shift.

“Good morning, baby,” Stiles said quietly, dropping open-mouthed kissed to the skin against his mouth.

Peter wiggled until Stiles loosened his hold, then he rolled over until they laid face to face. Peter tossed his own arm over Stiles’ waist and pulled him in close, pressing their hips together. 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Peter purred, and Stiles laughed at the over-the-top leer Peter was sending his way.

His heart felt light, far lighter than it had during the past week, and he kissed Peter softly, running a hand up to tangle in Peter’s hair. They kissed lazily—it was Saturday, Stiles didn’t have to be anywhere—enjoying the act of being together. Stiles could already tell that Peter was calmer than he had been for the past week, some of the agitation he’d been carrying around melting away.

He teased his way into Peter’s mouth with soft, kittenish swipes of his tongue against Peter’s lips. Stiles sucked Peter’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting lightly into the flesh just to hear Peter moan. He ground his hips forward, just enough to feel the hard line of Peter’s cock against his own.

“Sit back against the headboard,” Stiles said, though he kept his voice firm. His lips curled up into a smile when Peter immediately did as he was told, and Stiles raised himself to his knees.

“Good,” Stiles praised, keeping his tone soft as he knee-walked across the bed, straddling Peter’s waist and dropping himself onto the man's thighs.

Peter’s hands came up to settle on Stiles’ legs to keep him steady, and Stiles covered Peter’s fingers with his own. He leaned forward for another kiss, let it turn into two, three, four, before he was licking into Peter’s mouth again. Stiles loved how easily Peter let him in, and he twisted his fingers into Peter’s hair and  _ pulled _ , forcing a deep, guttural noise out of Peter’s chest that had Stiles smiling into the kiss.

“Thank you for helping me last night,” Stiles told him, grinding his ass down against Peter’s crotch. “You did so wonderful, I couldn't have done it without you.”

Peter made a scoffing noise, but he dropped his eyes and wouldn't look at Stiles when he spoke. “We both know you would have been quite fine on your own.”

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head and cupping Peter’s face in his palms. “I couldn't have done it without you, Peter. I couldn’t do  _ any _ of it without you.”

Peter didn’t say anything to that, but he leaned up and initiated their next kiss. Stiles could feel Peter’s smile against his mouth, and he let his own grin stretch over his lips until they were doing nothing but pressing their smiles together. It amazed Stiles to see Peter like this, soft and open, his defences down. After the past week, it was especially humbling, and Stiles’ own heart felt fit to burst. 

His smile dropped when Peter grabbed his ass, and he moaned when Peter urged his hips forward. Stiles’ erection was pushing against the soft fabric of his boxers, and he whined when it pressed into Peter’s belly. He pushed into their next kiss, tangling his tongue with Peter’s as the man continued to grope his ass.

“The— _ ugh _ , the lube,” Stiles gasped, tugging harshly at Peter’s hair and forcing the man to show his throat.

Stiles leaned in and attacked the skin, biting at the thick muscle where it met Peter’s shoulder.  He took a moment to layer it with soft kissed before he sucked, worrying the skin between his teeth as he did his best to leave a bruise. He knew it wouldn’t stay unless Peter specifically concentrated on that area, but he pulled one up nonetheless. 

It was a game they had played in the past, Stiles stroking Peter’s cock as long as he could stop his healing from kicking in and getting rid of the bruise. If Peter let his healing take over and the bruise faded away, Stiles would stop what he was doing until Peter had calmed down, only to start again. Stiles had edged Peter for  _ hours _ that way, and while it was something Stiles certainly wanted to do again, now wasn’t the time.

He grabbed the bottle of lube when Peter passed it to him, and awkwardly manoeuvred himself until he was naked, throwing his boxers to the side. Lifting himself onto his knees, Stiles smiled at Peter before he squirted lube onto his own fingers, stealing another quick kiss while he reached his hand back. 

He was a little tighter than he was used to, not having any time—or desire—to do this alone over the last week. He breathed out as he pushed his finger in, frowning a little at the odd feeling. It didn’t seem to matter how often he and Peter did this, it always felt a little strange when he first penetrates himself.

“Are you going to be good for me?” Stiles asked, scratching his fingers through Peter’s stubble with his free hand. “Are you going to make me feel good? Stretch me open and fill me up? Make me feel you for days, _smell_ _like you_ for days?”

Peter made a broken noise and Stiles smiled, arching his back as he pushed his own fingers deeper inside of himself. He nudged a second finger along the first after another few moments, not wanting to waste time with the preparation. He wanted Peter  _ in _ him, and he didn’t mind rushing through this part. Peter was staring at him with electric eyes, mouth dropped open as he shakily pulled in air.

Stiles smirked, a little bit of pride settling in his chest. He knew Peter found him attractive, but he loved it when his boyfriend got like this, panting and half shifted, his claws sitting carefully against Stiles’ thighs. Stiles twisted his wrist to get a better angle as he shoved in a third finger, letting out a little noise when he did. It was a stretch, but it was worth it if he meant he’d get to sit on Peter’s cock in only a few more minutes. 

He leaned in for a messy kiss, more so breathing against Peter’s mouth than anything else. He used his free hand to get Peter’s cock out of his own underwear, not bothering to take them off, just tucking the elastic band under Peter’s balls. Once he was able to move his fingers without flinching he pulled them all the way out, grabbing for the lube so he could slick up Peter’s cock

“ _ Stiles _ ,” Peter ground out, his fangs peeking over his bottom lip as he threw his head back.

“Sorry, baby,” Stiles said on a laugh, positioning himself Peter to finally,  _ finally _ , sink down.

_ God _ , Peter was big. Not overly long, but he was thick, far girthier that three of Stiles’ fingers, but he liked the sting when Peter first pushed into him. He lowered himself slowly, making sure to breathe deeply through the quick shock of pain. It didn’t last, though, and Stiles moaned when he got himself fully seated in Peter’s lap.

He groaned, moving slightly and the stretch was almost too much. He should’ve taken longer, he should’ve waited. Stiles threw his head back when he let himself drop down, a wounded noise being punch out of his belly by Peter’s dick. He continued to move himself, rolling his hips to get used to the intrusion, pushing Peter’s cock into his prostate.

Stiles grabbed at his own dick, scrambling for purchase against Peter’s shoulder as he raised himself up, his eyes burning with tears at  _ how much _ everything was. Peter was making a low, rumbling noise from his chest and Stiles pressed his hand over the wolf’s heart, feeling the vibration of it. He took a deep breath, then dropped himself down, letting out a high noise.

“Ngh,” Peter moaned, leaning forward so he could wrap his arms around Stiles’ waist and fit his face into Stiles’ neck. 

“So good,” Stiles panted, moving his hand so he could tangle it in Peter’s hair, uncaring of the mess on it. “My  _ god _ , Peter, you feel so good.”

“ _ Alpha _ ,” Peter whined into his neck and Stiles smiled, still moving up and down in Peter’s lap. Stiles leaned back enough that he could tug Peter’s chin up for a kiss, licking into Peter’s mouth even as the man sat there dazed.

Stiles’ hand moved faster on his own cock, head building along his back and pooling hot in his belly. He felt good, so good, Peter in him and around him and  _ everywhere _ . It felt like he was on fire, burning up from the inside out, his entire body lighting up where Peter was touching him. There were claws pressing into his back, not enough to draw blood but enough for Stiles to feel it. 

“S’good, so good for me, Peter, unh,  _ Peter _ ,” Stiles bit out, moving his hand faster, faster, until he was spilling between them, shooting warm over Peter’s chest and stomach.

Stiles slumped forward, pressing his forehead into Peter’s shoulder as he breathed harshly. He pawed at Peter’s stomach, swiping his fingers through his mess and raising them to Peter’s mouth. Peter leaned forward eagerly, sucking Stiles’ fingers between his lips. Stiles moaned, his dick twitching and making a valiant effort to get hard again.

“ _ Come _ ,” Stiles growled out, the noise harsh in the quiet of the room, the only sound their own ragged breathing. 

Peter did, curling forward with a howl and emptying into Stiles’ body. Stiles rocked them both through it, falling back with Peter when the man collapsed against the headboard. Stiles chuckled, a little, his entire body feeling pleasantly lose, his brain floating along happily.

He wrapped his arms around Peter’s torso, snuggling down until he could fit his head under Peter’s chin. He was in no rush to move, comfortable where he was in Peter’s lap, letting Peter grow soft inside of him. He knew how much Peter enjoyed that, and Peter’s noise of soft contentment was proof. He didn’t care much about the mess between them—the longer his own come stayed on Peter the longer the smell would linger after they showered.

“That was good,” Stiles yawned, already settling down for a nap, no matter how uncomfortable he would wake up.

“Sorry I was such a pain,” Peter said quietly, long enough after Stiles had spoken that he’d been sure Peter was asleep.

Stiles shrugged, not nearly as annoyed now as he had been during the height of Peter’s bad mood yesterday. “S’okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Peter said, his voice far softer than his usual tone, one only Stiles ever got to hear.

Stiles smiled into his chest, and he didn’t complain when Peter carefully slid lower on the bed until Stiles was lying starfished over his chest. He nosed at Peter’s chest hair, pressed a kiss to the skin against his face, before closing his eyes for a nap.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


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